


Like a Diamond in the Sky

by elwinfortuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwinfortuna/pseuds/elwinfortuna
Summary: Young Fëanáro sees the stars for the first time, a sight that will inspire him forever.
Relationships: Daurin | Tórin & Fëanor | Curufinwë, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Finwë
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25
Collections: Innumerable Stars 2020





	Like a Diamond in the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babyRage_lyla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyRage_lyla/gifts).



"Don't get me wrong!" Daurin said, laughing, gesturing gracefully with a mug of tea in his hand. "I love the Trees. I would die for them! But little Fëanáro here needs to see the stars, see how we lived under them before the Great Rider ever came to us." 

Finwë shook his head but it was with a smile. He turned to Fëanáro, ten years old, who was lying on his stomach on the rug near the hearth, heels kicking up every now and then, a piece of chalk in his hand, delicately shaping letters on a slate, murmuring under his breath to himself about their meaning. "What say you, my little one? Would you like to travel with your uncle?" 

Any thought that Fëanáro hadn't been paying attention to the conversation was quashed by the smile on his face when he sat up. "Yes, father! I would love to see the stars." He stood up, running over to drop down onto the couch next to Daurin. "Do they glitter like diamonds, like the song you sang to me when I was a baby? I've always wondered."

"They do glitter," Daurin said. "The Trees are beautiful and full of light, but the stars are beautiful in their own way. You are the heir to the future, the bright promise of the Noldor, and you should see the world in every way you can, my young one. It will be my honour to show it to you." He ruffled Fëanáro's hair with his free hand. "Now, what have you been working on? Let me see!" 

They began their journey the next day under Laurelin's light, Daurin and Fëanáro sharing one horse between them, Daurin's arm wrapped around his wriggling nephew to ensure he didn't fall off when he gesticulated too wildly. For a long time they travelled together on a wide road heading west and south from Tirion, until Laurelin's light faded and Telperion's shone, before they stopped to rest the horse, eat a meal, and let Fëanáro, growing boy that he was, sleep for a while. Daurin sat up, dreaming with his eyes open, walking in the half-sleep of memory by the shores of the great lake of Cuiviénen with his sister and their parents, long before the Dark Hunter found and took his mother, leaving his father bereft, long before Míriel lay sleeping in the gardens of Lórien, weary beyond weariness. 

Laurelin's light found Fëanáro awake and eager to resume the journey. They were travelling south through the pastures of Yavanna, crossing wide fields covered in every kind of flower and fruit. It was harvest time, and that day they saw many Elves and Maiar out with great baskets, harvesting apples and nuts and many more things. Some of them gave the first fruits to the young Prince, and Fëanáro took them happily, stowing them away in his bag to eat later. 

Laurelin's light was just beginning to mingle with Telperion's when they entered a huge dark wood. The darkness was such that they could barely see the path in front of them if not for the white stones placed to mark it. The Hunters of Oromë resided there, and from time to time, dark shadows flickered past. Every once in a while, Fëanáro heard a great horn sounding afar off, and shivered a little. 

"You are right to be afraid," Daurin said. "For so we shivered under the stars in Cuiviénen, not knowing if that horn was the Dark Hunter seeking his prey. Oromë is not tame nor safe, but at the least he intends no ill to the Eldar. All his will is bent on the wild hunt, and those who follow him learn the ways of beast and bird, and speak their languages, with time."

At that Fëanáro turned wistfully to look at the shadows. "I care little for hunting, but that intrigues me," he said. "To speak with beasts and birds, to learn the ways of the sparrow and the eagle, the fox and the bear...I would love that." 

"Maybe one day," Daurin said. "You know, my father, your grandfather, lives among the people of Oromë at times, and he would delight to teach you. But look, now we are coming out of the forest!" 

They emerged from the trees to find only the faint silver light of Telperion from far North of them. It was dark, the darkest Fëanáro had ever seen the sky, but it was not dark, for the sky blazed with stars. The deep dark blue of the sky was pricked with stars by their thousands, shining, twinkling, glittering in constellations and patterns. 

Fëanáro gasped, spreading his arms wide as if to encompass the whole of the sky. "They are so far away, and yet I feel as if I could reach out and pluck one from the sky," he said in an awed whisper. 

Daurin smiled. "Come," he said. "Let's get down from our faithful horse and let her have her supper. You and I should have ours too. Then we'll lie down in the grass and I will teach you the names of all the constellations."

Fëanáro obeyed, and for a surefooted boy he nearly stumbled over his own feet a time or two gazing upward, as they prepared a simple supper of fruits and nuts, and let the horse go free to find her own food and drink. 

Daurin spread out a soft wool blanket, and they both lay down upon it, and Fëanáro just stared upward for a while, taking it all in, eyes darting from one corner of the sky to another. 

"It's almost too big to comprehend," he said at last, slowly. "The Trees are beautiful, but this is vast, and the light is cold, and the world is so much bigger than it seemed. I feel like I never knew who I am, who I might become, until this day. This light, this starlight, it burns in me, and I will never be free of it. This is the fire my mother named me for."

Daurin took his hand, and began slowly pointing out the different constellations, as Fëanáro listened and asked questions, and they watched the great slow dance of the stars across the arc of the sky. 

When golden light began to steal across the sky, the stars slowly faded from view. Fëanáro sat up, taken aback. "No," he said. "Where did they go?"

"Laurelin is too bright for them, here where we are. If we went further south or to the very far north, we could see them all the time, and of course in Middle-earth, there is nothing but starlight, all the time. But the stars are still there, behind the curtain of the Treelight, and when Telperion shines again with his fainter silver light, they will come back."

"Can we stay here for another night?" Fëanáro asked. "I want to see the great dance again." 

Daurin nodded, as Fëanáro began to yawn. "Yes, but you must get some sleep now. I'll wake you before the Mingling." 

When they returned to Tirion a few days later, Finwë could not help but notice how changed Fëanáro seemed. He had always been eager to learn everything he could, and that had not changed, but over time Finwë could see that Fëanáro was beginning to start to shape the world with his hands as well as his words. Small crafted items began to appear around the palace, made from glass to begin with. For long hours Fëanáro would stand and watch the glassblowers at work, and at last persuaded them to let him try the art. He was dexterous, swift to learn, and did not mind the heat. 

Following his experimentation with glass, Fëanáro moved on to the creation of gemstones, and in this arena, Finwë was quick to teach him all he knew. Before long, his son had surpassed him. 

On Fëanáro's fourteenth begetting day, he turned the usual customs on their heads by presenting his father with a gem, expertly crafted, that appeared to be pure white. 

"Father," he said, "come North with me, and I will show you the true beauty of this stone." Finwë could not but agree, and together with Daurin and a company of servants they travelled Northwards, into the cold and dark lands where the Trees barely shone at all. 

In a deep valley five days' journey from Tirion, Fëanáro gave the orders for camp to be set up. Laurelin's light was barely blocking out the stars then, and in silence, they waited for Telperion to shine. 

When the Mingling was over, Fëanáro drew the white gem he had given his father from its velvet pouch. 

"Here, father," he said. "I give this to you again."

Finwë took it in his hands. The stone blazed forth, blue and silver under the stars, bright as a star itself. All those watching gasped in awe. 

"So beautiful," Finwë breathed. "My son, what a gift you have. Is this where your heart lies, in the crafting of gems?"

Fëanáro smiled. "I want to learn everything, do everything, Father! My heart lies in the creation of all that is beautous and fair."

"Spoken like a true Noldo," Daurin said with a grin. 

Finwë reached out, drawing Fëanáro into his arms. "You shall learn everything you want, I promise it. Anything at all, just name it." 

"In that case," Fëanáro said, squirming out of his father's arms and pulling a sheaf of papers from his pack, "let me show you these letters I've been working on...."


End file.
